Staying at the Millers

How a farm stay turned into something much deeper.

The Pink Sloth found her happy place — between a barn, a coop, and a mountain.

Our time with the Miller family was more than just a stopover — it was a heartwarming, grounding experience that reminded us of the kind of community and lifestyle we dream about. For nearly one week we parked the Pink Sloth at The Beer Farmers, a stunning property nestled in the Pemberton Meadows, in exchange for helping out with a few tasks around the farm.

She said she’s available for landscaping… but only paid in popsicles.

The Millers are the kind of family that instantly make you feel like you belong. Welcoming, fun-loving, and hardworking, they’ve poured so much of themselves into this land — and it shows. You can feel the intention and care behind every part of their farm. There’s a joy to the way they live: music playing while they work, kids running freely, everyone pitching in without being asked. It’s the kind of natural rhythm that feels rare these days.

Building fences and earning beers — the farm life rhythm.

We pitched in with spring chores — weeding the tulip garden by the family home, digging fence post holes, undoing fencing, fixing a manure spreader, and helping out wherever needed. These small tasks gave us a deeper appreciation for the daily rhythm of farm life and made us feel even more connected to the land and the people who care for it.

The girls were also wonderful assistants — always ready to help, whether it was walking a dog, collecting eggs, swimming, or helping Liam bottle-feed a calf. They easily found their place in the flow of farm life. One day, after receiving fresh eggs, they were inspired to make crepes for lunch — and even shaped one like a heart as a thank you for Brenda.

Farm crew: Dad digs, Arielle delivers the style and shovel.

One day, we took a short trip to Whistler — partly because we wanted to get more use out of our Epic Passes, and partly because we needed to dump our wastewater (and Pemberton had no available sani dump!). After some fun spring turns and soaking in the mountain air, we dipped into the pool at the Fairmont Hotel, then headed to Earls for dinner. That evening, we met up with our nephew nearby and ended the day around a warm campfire, swapping stories and laughter. Arielle later declared it the most epic day of our trip — we had woken up at the Miller’s, gone skiing, swam in a hotel pool, had dinner out, and spent the evening with family.

The next day, we ventured to the Lillooet River's shore via the Hurley Forestry Service Road. We spent a slow afternoon with our feet in the sand, soaking in the sun and sharing simple tuna sandwiches and crisp veggies. It was the kind of unhurried moment that grounds you — the perfect counterbalance to such an adventure-filled day.

Proof we made it off the bus and onto the mountain.

Farm chores: complete. Next stop — sandy toes and tuna sandwiches.

When we returned to the Millers’ farm, the place was alive with energy. The parking area was completely full — cars and trucks lined every available space as visitors wandered between the rows of blooming tulips and made their way to the brewery’s patio. Laughter and chatter filled the air, kids ran freely near the flower fields, and the scent of spring mingled with the smell of fresh beer and burgers. The whole farm buzzed with the joyful hum of a community gathering to soak in a sunny day.

The Miller family's roots in Pemberton run deep — all the way back to 1896, when their grandfather first arrived in the valley. Generations later, they’re still here: farming, building, and thriving. Brenda and Bruce raised five children in the family home, three of whom still live on the property. Since purchasing the farm in the 1990s, their main focus has been growing seed potatoes, but over the years, they’ve also raised cattle, horses, pigs, chickens, and sheep. Through it all, Bruce has carried the weight of running the farm — navigating unpredictable seasons, long days, and the ongoing demands of rural life. His steady strength has become the backbone of the Miller legacy.

Among the many animals they care for are Highland cows. A couple of weeks before our arrival, a calf was born but lost its mother just two days later. Their youngest son, Liam, took over — bottle-feeding it four times a day, taking it on walks, and offering gentle care. Watching him show up with such quiet devotion was deeply moving. Arielle and Élyssa even got to help with the feedings — a moment they’ll always remember.

A cozy stay on the farm — the Miller family’s charming guest house is available on Airbnb. Surrounded by mountains, meadows, and good company.

Just a girl, a calf, and her mentor Liam — doing barn things.

Seven years ago, they added a brewery to the farm, which is now run by their oldest son, Will. The idea began with Brenda’s love of brewing and her wish to share her creations during the local Slow Food Cycle Day. When she discovered that she needed a licensed brewery to do so, she didn’t hesitate — she made it happen. The result is a thriving brewery offering 12 distinct beers, distributed from Pemberton to Vancouver.

Brewed with love, poured with purpose — straight from the farm.

They are genuine farmers and generous people. Their hospitality flowed so naturally — sharing fries and burgers from the truck, farm-fresh eggs, cool drinks, and even letting the girls splash in their pool. These weren't just kind gestures; they were heartfelt expressions of the way they live: open, warm, and always making others feel at home.

The kind of evening that doesn’t need much light to feel full.

Not part of the public tour — just a sister moment, thanks to the warmest hosts we’ve met.

One of the most breathtaking moments was walking through their vibrant tulip field — open to the public for viewing — with Mount Currie standing tall in the background. It was postcard-perfect.

Standing tall among the tulips — rooted, radiant, and growing wild.

Being with the Millers reminded us of something deeper: families like theirs — built on hard work, shared values, and mutual support — are becoming increasingly rare. In a time when many of us live far from extended family, this kind of connection and collective effort feels both nostalgic and revolutionary.

Their farm is more than a business — it’s a living example of what’s possible when people come together to grow, build, and care for something greater than themselves. It made us dream about the potential of community-supported farming, where families and neighbours pool resources, grow food together, and support one another. What makes their model especially inspiring is how they transform their harvest into products people can gather around — beer brewed on-site, shared over conversation and connection. It’s farming with heart, and a vision for a more connected way of living.

If we’re going to build a more sustainable and connected future, we need more places like this — where people feel at home, where kids run barefoot through the fields, and where work and joy go hand in hand.

Farming is beautiful, but it can also be incredibly isolating and demanding. A friend of mine who’s a social worker once told me that farmers have one of the highest suicide rates — a truth that’s stuck with me. It makes you wonder: what if farmers were supported like public health professionals, with stable income and shared responsibility? What if they could rest, travel, or recharge, knowing the community had their back? Maybe that’s the future — where community becomes the bridge between planting roots and following wonder.

The Millers gave us more than a place to stay — they gave us a glimpse of what’s possible.

As we packed up the Pink Sloth and got ready to leave, I found myself wishing I had asked for a photo with them the night before. But between our sleepy start and their full morning, the moment slipped by. Still, maybe the most meaningful memories aren’t the ones we pose for — they’re the ones we carry with us, in the way a place and its people leave a mark on our hearts.

As I sit with the fullness of our time here, I realize that sometimes we leave a place carrying more than we expected — not just dirt on our boots, but emotion in our chest. Gratitude, longing, inspiration… and a little ache, too. Maybe that’s the sign of a stay that truly mattered.

We had shared our blog with the Millers when we first connected — in the same message where we introduced ourselves and shared our hope for an exchange, we also included a link to our site. While I didn’t ask directly if I could write about them, I hope this story reflects the admiration and deep gratitude we feel for their generosity and way of life.

And if you ever find yourself in the Pemberton Meadows, know that everyone is welcome to stop by The Beer Farmers to enjoy one of their incredible beers on tap — or treat yourself to a burger, fries, or even a poutine (best in the West), served daily with warmth, heart, and love. And if you're looking for a place to stay overnight, they even have a cozy house for rent on Airbnb — the perfect spot to rest, recharge, and take in the magic of the valley.

Have you ever stayed somewhere that left a lasting mark on your heart? Or met a family whose way of life made you rethink your own? I’d love to hear about it. And if you know of any thriving community farms, please share — I’m always looking for real-life examples.